Eden stands alone in the rubble of a ruined estate, a forgotten monument to a family that no longer exists.
What once must have been immaculate stonework now lies fractured and blackened, the courtyard choked with splintered beams and collapsed archways. The manor rises ahead of him like a corpse left upright, its windows hollow, its walls split by long veins of damage that spiderweb toward the roof.
Wind moves through broken arches and hollow windows, stirring ash and fragments of plaster across the courtyard. It carries the scent of damp stone and something older, something metallic that has long since soaked into the foundation. The silence feels preserved rather than abandoned, as though the estate has been sealed in the moment of its destruction.
His eyes settle on the manor gate.
The iron doors hang slightly ajar. Rust creeps along their hinges, but not enough to explain the stillness of the place. Where a noble crest should have been carved into the stone above the arch, there is only smooth gray surface.
Not shattered.
Not worn down by time.
Smoothed clean.
The stone is unnaturally even, as if whatever once marked it had been erased with deliberate care. No cracks radiate outward. No stray chisel marks remain. Just absence.
For a moment, memory intrudes.
A narrow wardrobe. A sliver of light cutting across darkness. Raised voices turning feral. The sound of something breaking that was never meant to. The weight of breath held too long.
The memory dissolves as quickly as it came.
Faint crimson markings pulse weakly beneath the gravel near the entrance. They are almost invisible unless one knows to look for them. Thin lines curve and intersect in deliberate arcs, incomplete shapes swallowed by dirt and debris, as though someone had tried to bury them without fully erasing their presence.
Eden steps forward.
His boots crunch against stone and scattered fragments of armor. Armored guards lie across the grounds. Some rest against the outer walls as though they had tried to hold position. Others fell in what appears to be formation, blades still clutched in rigid fingers. Even in death, their spacing suggests discipline — a perimeter formed and maintained until collapse.
Deep claw marks tear through steel breastplates.
The metal has not been crushed.
It has been cut.
Yet their insignias are gone.
Scraped away with precision.
Not torn off in frenzy. Not shattered in struggle. Removed.
Eden kneels beside one of the bodies. The skin has dulled to gray, stretched tight across bone. Rot has begun, but not fully taken hold. The air around the corpse hums faintly with residual distortion.
"Several days," he murmurs under his breath.
His fingers hover over a wound that splits both armor and bone in a clean arc. The edges are too smooth, too controlled for wild violence.
Too clean.
He rises slowly, scanning the estate once more, letting his gaze linger over the windows, the rooftops, the silent entry hall.
"This wasn't random."
Inside, the manor greets him with stillness and decay.
The air is thick. Metallic.
The marble foyer is cracked but intact, its pale surface streaked dark where blood once flowed freely. Half-eaten limbs rest across the floor. A hand lies near the staircase, palm upward, fingers curled as if frozen mid-reach. A severed arm has been placed along the wall rather than discarded, positioned with unsettling care.
Placed.
The chandeliers above flicker irregularly, light sputtering as though struggling to remain alive. Each tremor casts warped shadows across the high ceilings.
From the upper floor comes a steady sound.
Crunching.
Measured. Unhurried.
Bone giving way beneath deliberate pressure.
Eden unsheathes his sword.
The steel slides free with a quiet whisper that seems louder than it should in the suffocating silence.
"It's still here."
A shape shifts beyond the staircase landing. The unstable light obscures its full form, revealing only two crimson points burning through shadow. Its silhouette stretches taller than any man, limbs bending at impossible angles as it begins descending.
Each step lands without echo.
The crunching stops.
For a fraction of a second, everything is still.
Then it rushes him.
The impact sends Eden crashing through a weakened wall. Stone and timber explode outward as his body slams into rubble outside the manor. The world fractures into ringing white noise. Air tears from his lungs, leaving him gasping against dust and debris.
He tries to rise.
His arms tremble beneath his weight, muscles straining as pain lances through his ribs. Broken stone grinds beneath his palms. Dust coats his tongue. Each breath sends a sharp ache through his chest. Something warm trails down his temple and along his jaw.
Blood.
Move.
His fingers tighten around his sword's hilt. Muscles respond slowly, reluctantly, but they respond. He forces himself upright as the creature steps through the breach in the wall, splintered wood crunching beneath its weight.
The air shifts around it, bending faintly, as though the space it occupies resents containing it.
"A trespasser," it growls, voice layered and distorted, as if several throats speak at once. "You walked into my meal."
Eden raises his blade, stance steady despite the tremor in his limbs.
"You misunderstand," he replies evenly. "You're the intruder."
Jagged yellow teeth gleam within a mouth too wide for its face.
"Bold for something so fragile," the Desire sneers. "I can see it inside you. That little spark."
Eden lunges for its neck.
At the last instant, resistance presses against his strike. Not hesitation — something pushing back from within. The blade slows unnaturally, as though caught in thick air, and glances past its target. He stumbles across broken boards, boots skidding.
"You faltered," the creature mocks, circling. "Why?"
Eden steadies himself, breath slow, eyes sharp.
"Something interfered."
The Desire vanishes from sight.
A ripple in the air is the only warning before four crushing blows land across his back and shoulders. Pain detonates down his spine. He drops to one knee, vision flashing white, ears ringing.
"Eyes on me," it laughs from somewhere behind him. "Drifting gets you killed."
Eden forces himself toward the nearest lit doorway and stumbles back inside, into what was once a grand ballroom. Though cracked and dust-covered, the polished floor remains intact, reflecting fractured light from chandeliers that burn steadily here, untouched by the flicker plaguing the rest of the house.
Golden light fills the hall, steady and unwavering.
He plants himself at its center.
"I end this here."
The Desire lunges again.
Steel meets claw with a sharp crack that echoes through the chamber, the impact reverberating up Eden's arms. The force drives him back a step, but he holds.
The moment their weapons connect, something slams into his mind.
Pressure.
A flood of raw instinct — hunger without limit, ambition without restraint, the need to dominate and consume. It presses against his thoughts, probing for fractures, searching for doubt.
His teeth grind together as he pushes back, forcing clarity through the surge.
He twists and counters, slicing deep across the creature's chest.
Dark blood spills across the polished floor, hissing faintly where it lands.
The other wounds he inflicted earlier begin sealing before his eyes, flesh knitting itself together in rippling waves.
All but one.
The cut near its heart continues bleeding, stubborn and slow.
"There."
That is the rule.
Destroy the core, and the Desire dies.
The creature's skin hardens into jagged scales that ripple outward from its chest. It charges, slamming into Eden's guard and driving him backward. His boots carve long lines into the wood. Blow after blow follows, each strike splintering boards and rattling chandeliers overhead.
Cracks spread across the once-pristine floor.
The hall distorts beneath the violence, light warping along the edges of his vision.
A brief opening appears as the creature overextends, its scaled arm dragging slightly from the weight of its own momentum.
Eden moves.
He slashes upward, cutting across both of its eyes.
The blade bites deep.
It roars, staggering blindly, claws tearing through empty air.
He steps forward before it can recover and drives his sword into its chest.
Steel sinks deep.
The moment it pierces the heart, his mind is flooded.
Not with images.
With craving.
Endless.
It crashes into him like a tidal wave — the desire to take, to rule, to strip the world down to something he can control. Promises coil through his thoughts, seductive and relentless.
Strength.
Control.
Freedom from fear.
His grip falters for half a heartbeat.
No.
He leans into the blade instead. Muscles scream as he forces it deeper, pushing past resistance that feels less physical and more existential. Blood coats his hands, warm and slick.
The creature shrieks, a sound that fractures glass along the far wall.
Eden pushes through the pressure, ignoring the tearing sensation inside his skull, ignoring the whisper that tells him to let go.
With one final convulsion, the Desire collapses.
Its body hits the floor heavily, scales cracking as they fade into dull, lifeless flesh.
Silence floods the ballroom.
The chandeliers sway gently, their light steady once more.
Eden stumbles backward and drops to his knees. His sword slips from his fingers and clatters across the fractured wood. His heart pounds erratically against his ribs. His limbs feel distant, as though they no longer belong to him.
The pressure in his mind fades slowly, reluctantly.
The chandeliers blur overhead.
The golden light stretches into indistinct streaks.
Darkness claims him.
—
In a room far from the ruined estate, a man turned the ring on his finger, its horned diamond catching the candlelight.
"The family has been removed."